Did you know that England?
by Lemonade -desu
Summary: Nothing good can happen when America doesn't want to talk, or the fact that most of his movies were myth...\\ Fail summary xDD
1. Chapter 1

America's golden blond hair was resting on the meeting table as he slowly fell asleep. The other nations, primarily England and Germany, were irked but used to America's rude behavior at meetings. At least, when America was asleep he didn't make any annoying comments and he looked kind of cute, but none of the other nations would ever admit to that. Russia's speech ended, concluding the meeting, while America began to stir, his head brushing against his discarded papers. His movements were very well, restrained, as if he were trying to prevent something from happening. As all the other nations gathered up their papers and left, mostly peacefully, England decided it was time he give America a piece of his mind. The older nation waited until the click of the door as the last nation left, which it would turn out to be the sleeping Greece but...

"Git! How many times have I told you not to sleep in meetings!" A few noticeable seconds passed by, England's expression of anger converted into one of concern, because unless America was dying he would speak. He spoke in the shower (more like sang but...), he spoke in the car, he spoke in his sleep occasionally, and he even spoke in the elevator which usually drowned out the boring elevator music with his overly-peppy voice. Which was never good. "America are you..?" England was cut off as America pushed him back and his shook his head. In a raspy whisper, like he was dying of thirst, he said, "Go home England, please." England took another step back and another. America hadn't called him England or used the word please in centuries, if he ever used it to begin with. His emerald eyes looked up into America's azure ones and saw something, something like hunger, a yellow ring appearing on the edge of his irises.

America restated, "Get out of here before I do something I regret." England's eyes were entrapped in the yellow ring slowly growing around the man's irises. America pushed him back, a little bit further this time, and shot him a pleading look. No, England couldn't go, the look of hunger in America's eyes was too much, it left him curious to what left him this way. It was definitely not magic, or not the kind England knew of. It was just, _questionable_. America's husky voice whispered out, "Don't blame me, Arthur." The next thing England, Arthur, knew the American who had been standing 2 meters away was right next to him, his shadow overpowering him.

"I'm sorry." America, _Alfred_, whispered in his ear. There was a sudden jolt of pain on his neck, pain that morphed to pleasure, sending jolts down the smaller nation's spine. He was able to crane his neck to see American's head at the source of his _pleasure_. It was almost like a dose of pure ecstasy coursing through his body, surely Alfred must be injecting something. His body started to go maniac, wanting to touch any part of Alfred, rubbing his fingers down the stronger man's build. Like a dose of anything, the withdrawal was the worst part, it left him feeling light headed and lacking something. Arthur reached out to grab Alfred, only to find that his counterpart was missing. He slowly turned around, seeing Alfred behind him, and he saw him shake his golden blond hair side to side, shaking his head. "I shouldn't of done that." He took a step back, but Arthur wasn't going to let him get away anytime soon or at all. Arthur's mind was screaming at him to not go to Alfred but the irrational, physical part of him wanted Alfred more than anything. It was like a chemical attraction. "What did you inject into my system?" Arthur barely managed to keep his cool, his conflicting mind lost in the midst. The American shook his head again, slowly saying, "I didn't inject anything." "Then what the bloody hell did you do, love?" Arthur's eyes widened as he noticed what he said and clamped a hand around his mouth, but not as much as Alfred's eyes did, shocked at hearing the British pet name. "Shit. Seriously, shit." Alfred was stuck in almost-disbelief as heard the effects of what he just did. Arthur enjoyed that? "What did you do Al-" He clamped his hand around his mouth not wanting to hear what would come out as he demanded an answer again. "I'll tell you on one condition, stop clamping your hand over your mouth, I want to hear what that sexy mouth of yours has to say." Arthur blushed a little (Not that much!) and quickly nodded his head. "Sure, Alfie."

Alfred grabbed a chair and motioned for Arthur to sit down. "It started during my isolationism, well, I'll tell you the story later. I was into voodoo at the time, and Leska used that against me to uh, change me." Arthur was still confused, confused as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland could ever be, which was pretty confused. "Bloody hell, Alfie, tell me what happened!" "Just promise you won't faint on me K, Artie?" Apparently he nodded and Alfred continued, "I'm a vampire." He opened his mouth to reveal two fangs, about 3 centimeters long.

TO BE CONTINUED

[I hope]


	2. Chapter 2

"You are a _what_?" Arthur's eyes widened more if that was even possible. Then a realization dawned on him. _I- I liked that?_ Alfred nodded his head as if he knew what Arthur was thinking, which he might actually be able to do. Suddenly, the tall American had to support his falling weight because well, he fainted. The last thing Arthur thought before he completely blacked out was how comfortable Alfred embrace was.

Later on~

When Arthur woke up, he felt like he was lying on a bed of roses, his memory not coming back to him for a couple of moments. Which, ironically, was the same time that it took to realize what was so comfortable underneath him. He was lying on America's bed. America was right next to him, slowly blinking his azure eyes open, and that triggered the flow of whatever _that_ was that happened yesterday. "Artie yah're awahke." Alfred said, using his patented southern drawl.

Arthur scooted to the edge of the bed, a faint blush slowly creeping up his face. "Go away, Alfred." He had to force-ably change his speech so he didn't call Alfred, Alfie, or love. From Alfred's perspective the cute Brit was turned away from him, pouting, a faint blush visible as he firmly denied Alfred the chance to talk to him. That was way too cute for him to ignore, so he crept up behind the unsuspecting Brit and tackled him in a crushing hug. Arthur's blush doubled, and then tripled, and he tried to push back Alfred which ended in failure. The smaller man's hands ended up tracing circles on Alfred's chest, mapping out the contours and his hands slowly slipped under the white fabric.

Suddenly Alfred jerked back, azure eyes as wide as saucers. Arthur was very, very displeased with the loss of Alfred and almost yanked the American's arm out of it's socket to get his attention. Alfred looked down at the feisty Brit and swung him over his shoulder like a piece of luggage.

"H-Hey! Put me down this instant!"

"Ahthur," Bloody hell, he loved that accent and it seemed like Alfred knew it too.

"We hahvta get outtah 'ere soon."

Alfred kicked the door open and ran down the stairs. He ran down forty floors without breaking a sweat or even faltering with the Englishman on his back. The way he was running made Arthur's nerves stand on end, the Big Apple blurring around him and the people becoming indecipherable.

"Slow down Alfie."

"Cahn't do that, Cap'n."

"I- WHAT? Did you just call me _Captain_?"

"Mmhm, sir, you's surah lookin for'a trouble."

For a second, Arthur actually remembered that Alfred was a vampire and he did possess all of these traits and powers. Only for a second though.

"What kind of trouble?"

"Tha worst kind, mah kind'ah trouble."

"How bad, Alfie?"

"It's-ah rhetorichal, Artie, jus' fall ahsleep."

With that Arthur took Alfred's suggestion and fell asleep on the American's strong build. No wonder what he was dreaming about.


	3. Chapter 3

When Arthur woke up from his second "nap" that day, he had only one question in mind, who were they running from? He'd understand if it was the vampire equivalent of Francis, but at this point waking up in what appeared to be D.C. Took its toll on any living thing. Slowly the door to his hotel room creaked open. (It was one of the most _different_ hotels, ever.) Alfred's eyes were filled with an unusual emotion for him, fear, and he carefully approached the Brit.

"Yah K, Ahthur?"

"Belt up! I- I'm way stronger than you!"

"Tha's nice tah know Artie."

"Who exactly are we running from?"

"Leska, uh founhd out tha' yah knew about mah vampire-ness."

"Alfie, love the accent but speak _normally_."

Alfred nodded and glanced around the room suspiciously. He looked sad in a way, like someone painfully hurt him or broke his heart. His appearance was much, much different from normal, he didn't look like America the nation, he looked like Alfred the person. Texas was covered in smudges, almost impossible to see through, Nantucket looked like it was wilting, and Alfred's familiar bomber jacket was absent from his frame.

_Something was definitely up._

"What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing. Nothing's- wrong."

The pause in Alfred voice was unsettling, unnatural in his voice. It didn't fit, Arthur couldn't see the whole picture, but what he knew was committed to memory. Leska was a vampire with some kind of special relation to Alfred, Alfred was a vampire, and they were in danger. Immediate danger, probably from Leska.

"Alfie, what are you _hiding_?"

"Maybe if it weren't for they fact that Leska is all yandere over me still, who would love to make you fresh meat, and the fact that I'd have to kill my own blood-relatives to save you, I might feel a little better."

Alfred sighed loudly and sat down on the bed next to Arthur, inches away from touching.

"It started in the year 1824, after the Monroe doctrine, when Leska found me. I was outside my home at twilight waiting for a friend and she grabbed me, literally, and forced me into her home."

The Brit was hanging onto his words, memorizing them the moment they came out of the American's mouth.

"She made me drink her blood and then she took me and drunk mine. I became her servant/lover/guest for twenty years, or until I built up enough strength to leave. I left on a cool crisp night, never to return to her again, but she still was after me. I caught glimpses of her on sidewalks, rooftops, and at meetings, but I've always been _that_ one step ahead. She-"

The bedside window shattered, silencing Alfred, as a silhouette's shadow was cast across the ornate carpet.

"Talking about me, Al? How _considerate_."


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred gasped and drew back, while Arthur studied the stranger's, Leska's, appearance. She looked like Alfred's fraternal twin, blonde hair, azure eyes, and almost the same height as himself, which was that _awkward_.

"I see you've brought a treat." Leska started to walk towards him, but was blocked by Alfred.

"He is not a _treat_, leave us be, now."

"That's a shame, here I thought he'd just love the attention."

Alfred and Leska were staring at each other with renewed vigor, their unwavering gazes telling each other to back off.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Arthur timidly spoke, still evaluating the situation.

Their, Alfie's and Leska's head turned towards him the moment he spoke and know both of their gazes were on him.

"Tsk. I thought I taught you that our prey should be quiet and reverend. Did I not?"

"You did, but that suggestion was so morally unethical, that I could barely stand the thought of it, Leskavafea."

Arthur slowly observed the conflict between them, their clashing personalities at war again. They were whispering at each other, so low that all Arthur could hear was,

"_Stay away... Don't you know... My Arthur..." _

The last comment pleased the Brit quite a lot even though he should be fearing for his life, not being pleased by Alfie's possessive comment.

When he glanced back at them Leska had a knife and Alfred had gun pointed at her. He gave her one last warning, saying that she should leave now before he does something that would kill her heart. She laughed at that, apparently amused, but then he whispered in her ear what that was. She took a step back, appalled, and quickly left.

"Mmm, love, what did you say to get her to leave?"

"Nothing that I'd ever do, unless for your life."

As quickly as that all happened, it was sooner over. Alfred hit the bed, like a rock, and fell fast asleep, which was weird because, wasn't he a vampire? Arthur got the chance to just admire his beauty, before, he too fell asleep, for the third time that day.

–

Who didn't know that Alfred _wasn't_ asleep?

Should I continue?


End file.
